New as it can be
by Superagaentv
Summary: It is a strange new place after the war - some were lost and others were found; few were saved. Non canon, definitely non epilogue complaint. Based off a series of prompts for the next few weeks. Let us see where the adventure takes us.
1. Chapter 1

It was not simply the words that had struck her – but something far more than that. In all the time she had known the man, all her misgivings about him – they were all wrong. And for the first time – she was pleased to experience that sensation.

 _"I'm sorry, for everything that I've done."_

It had been hard – snake bites were always "hard" but ones to the neck particularly brutal. Thankfully Harry had grabbed Madam Pomfrey when he did, and Snape had been saved – though not everyone appreciated this turn of events; seeing Harry and Snape reconcile had lifted a weight on her shoulders

 _Harry walked into the room as soon as he was able, the healers of St. Mungo's had kept the whole wing shut down due to the influx of patients – but the critical patients were to be left alone. But for Harry – he needed to see him – this man._

 _"No questions just yet Mr. Potter." The healer said softly, "He won't be able to – well he_ _ **shouldn't**_ _– be talking for a few days yet until the magic has taken full effect. We also do not know if he is has suffered any psychological after effects – or any brain injuries from being unconscious."_

 _"Psycho- what now?" Ron asked, looking at the healer and she smiled._

 _"She's muggle born Ron." Hermione answered. "She means we won't know if he has suffered any trauma that would prevent him from remembering it all, or if he will be left paralyzed."_

 _"You must be Hermione Granger." The healer chuckled, nodding. "That's right. My parents are doctors in London."_

 _"How did you avoid being caught?" Ron asked, genuine concern and distrust etched into his voice._

 _"I graduated Hogwarts before I was married. I married went from Sophie Hinkle to Sofia Bennet. I worked with some of the resistance in London. A team of us only just got here before you brought the injured to us."_

 _Ron nodded, relaxing back into a more comfortable state as the healer walked them to Snape's room. She reminded Harry about the restrictions, and forbid the others from coming in – they could wait at the door or outside._

 _"I'll go see to Mum." Ron stated softly, putting his hand on Hermione's shoulder and giving her a squeeze. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat – in the rush of the battle and his attention to the elves; she had kissed him. But the kiss was…not was she expected._

 _She didn't know what to expect – but it felt strange and unnatural. Her long time dream of kissing the boy she had been waiting for was over._

 _"I'll just wait at the door Harry." She said, offering a smile to her friend as he opened the door and approached the man laying on the bed. His black hair was a mass on the pillow – his eyes were shut and his lips were barely open. The sheets did not look as if they were moving with the rise and fall od his chest – and for a moment she wondered if the healer had made a mistake._

 _Yet as Harry sat gently on the side of the bed, the man's eyes opened; his lips parting as Harry said something inaudible._

 _Hermione could not help but think back to Ron; what did squeezing her shoulder mean? What was to happen now?_

 _"He truly is a very brave man." The healer stated, and Hermione turned to look at the woman – thinking she had left long ago – and nodded. "When he woke up, he just whispering; I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done."_

 _Hermione turned her gaze back to the room where Harry was sitting, reaching out and seemingly whipping a tear from Snape's eyes as it fell._ She's right _, Hermione thought,_ he is a very brave man.

 _Indeed,_ Hermione thought as she came up the hallway to his room. _He is a very brave man_. She had spent the day at the castle – helping with the repairs. The whole time those words – the very ones the healer had mentioned – ran around her brain. Harry had told them – each and every one of them – what Snape had done, his bravery and his selfless actions. He also spoke of Snape's apology, which may have shocked some of their friends and family – but Hermione was finally beginning to see him for who he was.

"I am in no need of medicine, you puffed up penguin." Snape snarled from his bed, his voice echoing out through the doorway as she approached. "I would rather die than drink a potion brewed by such …feeble hands."

"You just lie back Mr. Snape." The nurse was saying. "You'll be up and at it in no time." She was met with a grumbling noise as Hermione watched from the doorway.

 _He isn't going to change a bit._ She thought as the nurse left, leaving Hermione to knock twice gently and enter the room; smiling happily at him as he glared at her.

" _What_ are _you_ doing in here?" Snape hissed, pulling the blanket up further as if he could hide the bandages around his neck. The wounds were healing – but to prevent any lasting tissue damage they had to be careful – plus with the hospital being pretty full up, the amount of potions being made did not yet meet the demand.

"I came to check on you." She replied, trying to keep her chipper attitude as her ex professor kept glaring at her as if she, and not Voldemort – had killed Lily Potter that day. "Harry says you are improving rapidly."

"Still following on Potter's coattails, -Miss- Granger." Snape stated sourly, "How…surprising." His voice was more gravely and hoarse than usual, so he lacked the projection that would normally send shivers down her spin – so Hermione had no fear of walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed as he continued to glare at her.

"You don't have to say such things anymore." Hermione stated gently. "I know you apologized to Harry, we all know about what you did." Lowering her eyes, Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes like they had done so many times before. "I'm sorry too." She whispered, trying to hold back the emotions she could really only ever show Harry; she had tried to hard to keep a lid on what she was feeling during the war. Some things couldn't be helped coming out now and again. "I should have known there was more to you than that. I should have at least tried to look for it."

She felt the pressure of fingers under her chin lifting her gaze up as Snape moved her head so slightly as to meet her gaze. His touch was not cold, not overly warm – clammy would have been the word that came to her mind if she could not help but be slightly transfixed by the tenderness in his gaze. His mouth was twisted – as if fighting whatever words were trying to escape – into a frown; while the emotions welling beneath the tender gaze were being channeled elsewhere, to a far safer location.

The man began to withdraw his hand, yet something within Hermione stopped him, taking his hand and holding it between her own; taking the liberty to kiss his fingers as they curled around her grip. She was shaking – and she did not realize it. With all the weight of death, she had never been truly able to to express joy on seeing them alive. Those she could speak to were still mourning the death of their loved ones. "I am so glad you did not die." Her voice came like a soft embrace, gentle yet powerful. There was no dishonesty in her words, the sheer vulnerability of her admission left him feeling disarmed. A swarm of memories seemed to bombard him;

 _Why did you do it Severus?_

 _I'm sorry._

 _How could you?_

 _I never meant to call you a Mudblood, it jus-_

 _"Slipped out?"_

"You will refrain from such emotional gestures." He snarled, pulling his hand away from her – forcing his eyes away from the expression; the parted lips, the vibration of shock through her eyes, hurt forming behind the tears. It was far too easy to get lost in the brown eyes that watched and took everything in; the depth of her emotions being so overpowering. Her face still wore some of the dirt from the battle, bags under eyes indicated the lack of sleep – her curls were mixed with debris and mud, small cuts lay on her skin from whatever objects had flown past her. But the once buck toothed witch – even in this state of disarray – was beautiful. Her mind was clear and sharp, as it always had been. This - the little witch he had seen grow from a lonely child to one of the bravest witches he knew…. yet the ghost of his past love could he see within the tears Hermione shed, her worry: that kindness. He did not need it.

He did not want it.

But the simply act of taking away his hand shifted her expression yet again, and he could not bear to see her face; shifting his eyes to the fascinating ceilings of St. Mungo's. He could feel her weight shift off the bed and a sigh escaped her lips that left her body in synch with the sigh that escaped his own. He felt the tension in his muscles come back, waiting to hear her footsteps out the door.

He shifted his gaze back to her as he felt the weight against on the bed, seeing a book in her hand, "Chapter One. There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed –

"Miss Gra-

" – in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning." She continued. "but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain – "

"I shall not be read to like a chi-

"-so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question." Hermione kept on, not giving into his childlike protests – and, finally, Snape stopped his muttering; shutting his eyes, listening as she spoke. It had been a long time since he had read Jane Eyre – and the company – why not perfect – wasn't too bad either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mistakes of the Weary**

He was sitting up, his feet hanging over the bed letting the cool air flow over them – for what felt like the first time in ages. He had never wanted to admit that _not_ walking was ever a possibility; but the fear was there just the same. Shutting his eyes, he fully expected to see the faces of the dead in the dark but instead…. a set of big brown eyes on a face he knew as well as his own – the sight drew a smile to his lips.

"Oh you are up." The healer said as she stepped in, and he forced the smile away and opened his eyes. "Would you like to go for a walk today?"

"I am not a child, Sophie Hinkle." He drawled, eyeing her like he had when she had made an explosion in his classroom.

"Ah but I'm not a Hinkle now am I." The healer replied easily, pulling out a device that absurdly muggle, making him scowl. "Come now, you have to take this slowly. You know very well that even a potion can't cure a would as severe as yours."

"You were never very skilled at potion making." He grumbled and Sophie put the walker in front of him with great pleasure.

"If you aren't nice to me, I don't do your gown up at the back." Sophie chuckled and Severus grasped the thing with an incredibly dark expression. Putting his feet slowly on the floor, he felt is muscles spasm and contract alone his spine; and he curled his toes to withstand the dizziness that came often with lying in a bed for three weeks. "Severus, you alright – we can postpone your walk till later, you do look a little pale."

"I am always pale." He growled, moving the walker forward before taking a step.

/

Hermione was just returning from a trip to the school - helping them rebuild was not the easiest task but it was well worth it – when she decided to come pay her favorite patient a visit. It had become a habit, an immensely enjoyable one. They had moved on from Jane Eyre to Sense and Sensibility, to an American novel called Gone with the Wind. Most of the time her old potions master would lay there with his eyes closed, hands by his side like he was preparing for a funeral. Other times, his hand would touch her leg lightly – and it would warm her spirit.

Just the thought of it brought a smile to her face, to think! - she knew a side of him that no one else did.

As she walked down the corridor, she thought of the last time she had come to read him; he had smiled at her – not that he suspected she had seen it, she had seen him in the glass of window that was inlaid by the door. It had been something she had never seen – well not directed towards her in any case.

"'Mione!" A voice called, and she stopped – her train of thought breaking as did the absent minded smile. Looking over, she saw Ron and Neville headed toward her.

"Hello Neville, Ron – what are you two doing here?" Hermione asked, tucking the book back into her bag before they saw it.

"Just checking in on Mum and Dad." Neville said softly, smiling softly as he looked down.

"Neville has been suppling the hospital with fresh herbs from all over the country for potions and tonics." Ron said with pride, putting a hand on his friend's shoulders as a grin spread on his features.

"That's excellent work Neville." Hermione stated, branding a smile befitting of that achievement. "I am sure your mum and dad would be proud."

"Thanks Hermione." Neville replied, his voice soft – watching as Ron gave a signal and Neville's eyes widened and nodded. "I had better go – I have to bring some – uh – gillyweed to someone." He turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Hermione giving Ron a chastising look.

"Don't give me that look." Ron whispered to her, and she huffed in reply as he took her arm and moved her to a different area of the hospital - an offshoot of the current corridor they were in.

"Why?"

"You and I both know what happens when you give me that look and now is not the time." Ron stated as he pulled her close, much to her surprise, and kissed her. When he came up for air, she just blinked, startled and caught off guard. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should have expected this – they had barely seen one another in the whirlwind of repairing the school, getting the Ministry of Magic back on track – and tending to survivors that were coming out of the woodwork. But still – this was a hospital.

As he bent back down to kiss her," Ron, stop." She said softly, and his eyes reflected the words she did not have to say as something made her pause - she was frozen in place as a voice seemed to echo within her mind.

"Are you alright Severus?" Hermione turned her head to see their old professor standing – leaning on a contraption with his hospital gown on and the healer by his side. "Perhaps we have walked too long today." She offered softly, and the man offered no rebuttal; no words spoken – he merely turned with the healer's help – and Hermione felt the world so silent for a moment as she caught the hurt that flashed in the older man's eyes; and it bothered her.

"Bloody hell." Ron chuckled as he watched the man walk away. "That is a sight I never thought I would see."

"And what might that be Ron?" She asked, separating herself from him as she felt guilt rushing through her.

"You didn't see - blimey Hermione is gown was open at the back." Ron stated and Hermione scoffed.

"Give the man some privacy Ron, for heaven's sake." Turning, she walked hastily to his room; trying to understand why she felt so badly.

"We should talk about this Hermione." Ron offered and she paused to look back at him with a sad expression of _Do we?_

She continued walking, not stopping until she reached his room – bumping into the healer, moving to go around her. "Oh he isn't receiving visitors." Sophie stated, blocking the entrance.

"Don't be ridiculous." Hermione replied, and the healer shook her head.

"He asked to be left alone, Miss Granger." The healer repeated, her voice serious as Hermione saw his silhouette through the glass. Stepping back, Hermione nodded – reluctantly turning and heading towards the children's ward – slipping around a corner and waiting for the healer to leave, moving back to his room and waving her wand at the lock and letting the door swing inwards.

Snape was certainly not expecting company, least of all Hermione – that was obvious from the way he looked at her in his current state of dress – or…undress as the case may be. He was in the middle of changing his gown, or more accurately – bending over to pick up the fresh gown the had been laid out on his bed.

If anyone had ever told her that Severus Snape was capable of blushing – she would have called them a liar.

If anyone had ever said she would have seen him naked - very naked – she would have jinxed them.

"Let me help you with that." She said, walking to the bed as Severus picked up the garment and held it over himself with a glare to his eye.

"Desist." He growled, turning his face away from hers. "Leave." He growled, embarrassment clearly expressed within his features.

"You think I haven't seen a naked man before?" She giggled, setting her bag down, approaching him still - taking the garment from his clenched hands; finding resistance where she expected weakness. "I helped my father after his knee surgery –

"I am not your father." He growled, still not looking at her as she tried to pry the garment from his fingers.

"I know that." She replied.

"Do not toy with me, Miss Granger – go back to Weasley and have yourself a brood." He snarled, facing her with eyes of steel and Hermione gaped at him.

"Are you jealous?" She blurted, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I want you _to leave._ " He repeated, watching as a smile curled across her lips as she finally pried the gown away from him; her eyes never leaving his face as she fluffed it, moving slightly so he could place is arm inside the sleeve.

He did so in silence, very aware of her as she aided his left arm into the second sleeve – to when she glided the fabric up over his shoulders, her fingers brushing against his unclothes shoulders as she tied the knot, moving her hands down to tie the second knots at his lower back. When she was finished, he started to move away, but she stopped him, sliding his left arm into the sleeve of the housecoat that had been nearby – then the right. Bringing herself around to face him, pulling the housecoat over his shoulders - holding him firmly as she raised herself onto her tip toes, gently pressing her lips to his.

She didn't expect him to put his arm around her, pressing her closer to him – deepening the kiss ever so slightly. Pulling back, Hermione smiled and let out the breath she had been holding, as he did the same.

"Now, can we get back to chapter 12?" She questioned, putting an arm around him as she helped him sit on the bed.

" _Nothing_ would give me greater pleasure." He drawled, sitting back against the pillows as she retrieved the book from her bag. Coming back to the bed, she went to her normal position when he extended his hand to her, and she took it – pressing his fingers to her lips as she opened the book to the chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bombardment**

She stood looking at the place, it seemed so very quiet now. Hogsmeade had suffered its share, that much was true – but here it was; with snow filtering down on the tops of the buildings like it had the first time she had arrived. Shops were open and people seemed to fill all the once empty spaces, how joyous was the sound! She had longed for moments to be back during the war. And now – here she was again.

But not alone.

The man by her side was shaking – even if he would never admit it – his face solemn as he watched the expression on people's faces as he approached the Three Broomsticks with the one and only Hermione Granger on his arm. He was using a cane now, and her support for proper balance. The healer had _suggested_ not going for such a long walk until he was properly walk - or able to balance on his own; but Hermione had insisted that he be allowed to come with her and see how people supported him. _Moral support_ \- or some such nonsense. He tended to draw attention wherever he went, no matter what he wore - but the wound was easier to conceal now than before. The bandage on his neck was much improved now, alongside other aspects of the healing process; which made it easier to be covered by the sweater she had chosen for him. It was strange, not just for her, to see the man in modern clothes and not in the billowing robes of his teaching uniform. She had allowed him to wear the cloak, and the cloak only.

Which he had left behind because he looked ridiculous.

"It is good to be back." Hermione said, placing her head on his arm as they stood looking at the shops. He said nothing, but he looked down at her with a warm expression hidden beneath the icy gaze – he had purchased her a scarf on a whim, but it had taken him until today to find the courage to give it to her. It was in the bag Hermione was holding, along with some potions for pain and dizziness. But it would suit her, he hoped. She seemed too bright – like a sparkling diamond he was drawn to find every day. "Where should we go first? The tea shop?"

"Hardly." He replied, watching as she moved her head to meet his eyes. "Unless you wish for the entire world suffer the misapprehension we are a couple."

"But we are a couple." She retorted, entwining their fingers as she felt him shake even more – not that one could tell by looking at him. "You aren't nervous, are you professor?" She teased, her voice soft as a whisper.

"Never." He drawled, but he tightened his grip on her fingers. It was premature, letting the world know so soon – not to mention the reservation Hermione had made at the inn. All of it was overwhelming, happening too soon; he saw the looks on people's faces – he saw what lay behind their expressions.

"Come now, Severus." Hermione whispered, touching his torso with her free hand. "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. They haven't seen the best of us yet." He felt himself smile slightly at the expression she held, dipping his head into a nod as he gripped his cane. "Shall we pick up a new book then?

"If we must." He replied, stepping forward with his cane as she did. People seemed to stop and stare, others had smiles on their faces as they tried to wave. "What are they doing?" He whispered, as his companion waved at a friend or two.

"Saying hello." She replied as she chatted with two acquaintances as they approached.

Or a stranger or four.

"Let us check into our room at the Inn." She said, not answering his question.

 _Room?_ He thought, feeling her pull him gently towards the building, _not rooms? Surely, she can't expect..._ Once inside, the place seemed very empty – uncommonly so. Gripping her hand hard, he pulled her backwards into the door frame; the hair on his neck raising up. He said nothing, and to his surprise she hugged him.

"Is that them?" He heard a voice.

"Hermione would have signaled." Harry's voice.

"Maybe a surprise party wasn't the best idea." Neville's. "He might get upset."

"Perhaps we should have asked him first." Luna Lovegood.

"Hermione said they would be here, and they will." Harry again - and Severus narrowed his eyes.

Looking down at her, she smiled up him as she raised herself up on her tip toes, kissing him softly on the lips. He closed his eyes as he pulled her closer, nodding into her hair in the unspoken exchange between them, before she opened and closed the door once more and letting the room go silent.

"I brought The Mill on the Floss to read, in case we don't find anything we like." She said aloud, stepping around to lead him into the interior; just as wands were up and patronus' were dancing around while the crowd cheered. Severus leaned heavily on the cane while keeping a tight grip on her hand. Almost every student he had ever taught were standing in front of him, smiling and cheering with signs of WELCOME BACK, CONGRATULATIONS and HAPPY RETURN TO HEALTH - which he suspected was done by Luna or Neville. Harry approached him, extending his hand with a wide smile as people seemed to come out of the woodwork with cake, party favors and unfortunately happy spirits.

"We didn't think you would have come if you knew." Harry offered, glancing to the students.

"He wouldn't have." Hermione said cheerily, in between hugging her friends. "It was a struggle just to get him outside the hospital door."

"Well we really are glad to see you Professor." Neville said, coming up beside them with a piece of cake on a plate. "Hermione refused to let us see you until you were well enough."

"Did she." Severus drawled, and the girl avoided his gaze to prevent him seeing the extensive blush that crawled over her cheeks.

"Everyone wanted to come." Harry explained, "They wanted you to know the good news."

"News?" He inquired, looking from Harry to Hermione, yet getting to answers. He felt the room getting hotter as more and more people seemed to be crowding in, even McGonagall came up to wish him well - and to chastise him.

"Perhaps now isn't the best time Harry." Luna said softly, offering Snape a smile. "He did just get out of the hospital after all- and he looks quite pale."

"He's always pale." Ron said from behind them.

The combined noise of voices, utensils, laughter and songs echoed in his head; Severus felt the room tilt and spin within his mind; his vision swimming. Shutting his eyes, he breathed as steadily as he could, feeling the warmth of a familiar hand on his stomach. She was saying something, and his ears registered the sound of a chair being brought forward.

* * *

"You aren't his nurse, Hermione."

"I never thought I was Ronald." She hissed, looking at the door that was barely open. "Just because you don't understand why I am doing this doesn't mean you can insult the how I feel about him."

"But you aren't in love with him – I don't know why you keep doing this. You're a babysitter 'Mione." Ron was saying.

"And you're an ass." Hermione growled.

"Well don't you think this is moving a bit fast – you barely hang out with us, and now you show up in Hogsmeade holding his hand?" Ron barked, "What do you see in that cripple? "

The sharp cracking sound echoed as Hermione pushed open the door - shutting it behind her, making sure to lock the door. Resting her forehead against the door, she let out a breath to steady herself.

"Hermione." He said softly, watching her from the bed as she turned to see him sitting with his feet on the floor. "I am well enough; I do not need you protect-

"I wasn't." The girl replied, walking over; touching his cheek once she reached him. He gave her a look as he removed her hand. "He just is trying to get under my skin, but he doesn't hate you. He didn't take our break up very well."

"He is right." Severus said softly. "I have asked too much of you already, and you do not deserve that."

"You think I do not care for you?" She whispered, and the man sighed, not letting her hand go when she tried to take it away.

"Why did you only rent one room?" He whispered, looking down at her hand – running his fingers over her lifeline. She said nothing, her lips gaping as she digested the question. Finally, he looked up at her, not having heard a reply. "I asked-

"You are upset because I didn't rent two rooms?" She repeated, watching the expression on his face. She knew now how to read his stony face, and knew the worry, fear and hope that lingered there. "Severus-

"It isn't right." He stated and Hermione stepped closer, softly pushing him back onto the bed. He started to protest, but she silenced him with a soft kiss as she climbed gently onto the bed; pinning him down. Her hair cascaded down around her shoulders as she held him, waiting for him to relax as she kissed him – stopping only once he had done so.

Pulling back, she touched her nose to his. "Does it feel wrong, Severus?"

He could only glare at her, but it was half hearted.

She kissed his forehead and got up, waiting for him to sit. "I have had to leave every night after visiting hours are over – I…." She paused, looking down at her hands. "I just wanted to stay by your side for one night. That isn't too much, is it?"

Taking hold of his cane, he raised himself up; putting his arm around her shoulders to pull her in. "No." He replied softly, kissing the top of her head. "Now shall we head back out to that infernal party and show your friends how perfectly lovable I am."

"That might be a lot for them to take in." Hermione stated as she wrapped her arms around him. "But that is the best idea you have had all day." She grinned, tickling him lightly. "Come on, old man." He scowled at her as she reached for the door, but he followed behind her just the same, holding her hand like a love-struck teenager.


	4. Chapter 4

**One is the Loneliest**

He was a fool.

He had always known it, there as nothing more to be done about it. No longer a patient could he afford to be – or a burden, yet there was more lingering in his mind. The news was good as it was bad – the school was his home as anything in life, it suited him to return to teaching. Able to shape - or reclaim- what he lost during the war. He no longer had to be cruel and unyielding; though he suspected little would change in that regard. But going back meant one very important change to his life – a permanent change.

He would have to leave her.

Regardless of himself– he knew it would hurt her. They had fallen into something easy – she filled cracks in is heart and soul; and he almost hated her for it. Lily was not in the forefront; not in the ways that mattered – leaving him conflicted. Yet…he loved her – he breathed for her smile; to see her the locks of curly hair bounded as she walked down the hospital corridors. And he knew his heart would break to be parted from her.

But he could not date a student.

 _"I have some fantastic news." Hermione said, pulling forward the chair in his hospital room. "Can I postpone our reading until then?"_

 _"If you wish." He replied looking up from his book, putting it away as she settled. He was able to walk unaided now – only sometimes needing the cane. Sophie had declared it to be a wondrous recovery over the last two weeks since Hogsmeade; but he secretly taking some of his own potions – with outside help - and they did wonders._

 _"The school's rebuilt, we just finished the last of it yesterday. McGonagall thinks students can come back as early as this summer - to get started on their final year." She was beaming, her eyes were radiant, reaching for his hand; he gave it –feeling her warmth. "All of us could come back – so of course I said yes. And then – something I never dreamed of happened." She sucked in a breath, searching his face as if he was going to guess what she as going to say. "Head Girl." She let out a squeal, kissing his fingers happily. "Think of it Severus – me, Head Girl. I can help SPEW that way, really fix things."_

 _He was silent for a moment, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "You shall do great things." Softly, a sickening feeling in his gut rose up, looking over to a drawer where a letter lay. An owl had arrived – much to chagrin of the hospital staff - wanting him for the current vacant position of DADA teacher – unless he wanted potions. "Did you… say yes?"_

 _"Mhm!" She nodded, a curl falling out from her braid. "I can go settle as early as June. My only worry is about the Head Boy."_

 _"Worried? Miss Granger, do not be so absurd." He drawled, motioning her over as he pulled a blanket over her; allowing them to cuddle – though he was loath to call it that._

 _"I'm paired with Draco."_

 _"Ah, yes. Draco." He winced at the thought. During their stay at Hogsmeade, they had both discovered old traumas. His came in a cold sweat in the night or day; his limbs twitching, fighting against his mental frigidity. For Hermione, she screamed or murmured – but mostly she cried. They had both been awoken at different times in the night, each to find comfort in another. He knew she would feel uncomfortable having to share those bad memories with one of her abusers. "I recall… one effective way to discipline him is to break his nose." He drawled and she laughed – catching herself as she did so._

 _"I did not know you knew about that."_

 _"Of course. Who else listen to his whining." He stated, and she leaned her head down on his arm as she smiled at the thought._

 _Looking up, she gave him a cat like smile. "Did you despise me for over taking your star pupil?"_

 _"No, though you could have managed higher score in Potions; perhaps you were too busy finishing Wesley's and Potter's homework."._

 _"Oh course you would know."_

 _"It was no secret. We were, however, forbidden from speaking out against Potter's feeble attempts to fool us."_

 _"Harry would die if he knew." She giggled at the thought, looking back to her bag. "Should we get started – we only have a few chapters until we find out what happened. I personally think Watson is on the right track with his idea."_

She could not have known, how could she – in her mind he would probably stay in the hospital forever. Which is why he had left St. Mungo's without telling her – even going so far as to move into his new office in the school. He has asked for privacy – only those who needed to know would be told his location until he was fully settled. McGonagall had warned that it would not be wise to break one's heart over Christmas – but he had lived through it before. He had been writing her, but gave no indication in his letters as to his location. They had met for dinner and a movie, the like of which he had not seen since his youth. It had been lovely - no, exquisite - he had wanted to stay with her longer… so much longer; but he declined every slight indication. Escorting her home and kissing her passionately goodbye.

That had been a week ago….he ached for her touch, warmth and conversation at every moment. If at the start someone would have said he would love her so fiercely – laughter would have been the reply.

And now, he could no more imagine his life without her. Just as he could never imagined Lily lying dead on the cold floor. It was strange that this period in his life should reflect a scene in a book; and how fate led her to pick Jane Eyre as the first book to read to him. If ever he could relate to a character –Mr. Rochester with his burning passion for a young woman yet with the barriers of society keeping them apart. However it was he – rather than Hermione – who needed to separate himself.

Putting his quill down, he blew gently on the ink of the letter, folding it quiet as before reading the wax. He felt the rise of tears in his eyes as the owl took it in his break – gently nipping at the man's fingers before flying away with it. Waving his hand, the door shut and locked; no one would be able to disturb him as he took out a bottle of liquor and took off the top – trying to drown out the unending pain within his soul.

/

She thought waiting for 6 years for Ron was hard, she had known the war was hard; she had felt lonely – isolated and terribly afraid. But no of it had shattered her soul. Not like this. She had never known how much water she could produce – most of it landing on the letter itself.

He wanted to end it – them. He wrote about she was not to be a nurse to him anymore, no more a caretaker. He wanted freedom to retake his life – he wanted her to have the freedom to explore her own life, and not be tied down to an old man.

She understood some of it- her small spat with Ron had raised concerns that more of her friends had echoed through the next few weeks. But she would – could! - fix that. The last thing she wanted was to end this. Not for anything in the world. She knew him – the real him and not sexually; he had been clear about those boundaries while her parents were "away", and he was inured. There was little he could do about that.

But his soul. He always used such a cold expression, but it dropped when they were alone. He knew the spot on the back of her neck that enabled her to relax always new when to touch her hand, her thigh– any part of her; just so she knew she wasn't alone. There was also the way he watched her when she wasn't looking – or at least when he believed it so, it was so tender and warm. There was nothing like the was he held her' so gentle at times; or tightly; she knew what each signal meant. She knew the range of his kisses, the light ones he placed ever so carefully on the crown of her head, shoulder or fingers – or the kisses that made her knees go so weak he had to hold her upright –she loved to open her eyes to see his expression after those kisses were over. There was another kind of kiss he had shown her a week ago – and it had made something burn with in her, stronger than imagination could have inspired.

And now it was to be ripped from her.

But she knew he cared – she could feel the weight and depth of his pain; she could hear him whispered her name on a nameless wind, as she did the same.

 **Tap tap.**

She moved her head slowly on the pillow, watching as Harry stepped in with a tray of food. His expression only told her she looked awful, and she was glad of it. If she saw _him_ , she wanted to look as if her soul was splitting into two. "You need to eat Hermione." Harry offered softly, watching his friend as she lay in the dress she had worn when first reading the latter; but it was going on three days and all it had accomplished as Hermione feeling like Catherine or Juliet after separation from her lover. Setting the tray down, he handed her a tissue – in fact he gave her the box. "Have you tried to write to him?"

"He won't reply." She whispered, taking Harry's hand when he offered it. "I know he cares Harry – I _know_ he cares about me."

"But you must see where he is coming from Hermione. It must be hard enough to recover with us swarming him every moment – but how can you know ow you feel about someone when you have bonded over illness and not character. Surely you know that."

"It isn't like that Harry. It is so much more." She shut her eyes. "I know him Harry –

"So! - go see him." Harry stated bluntly. "He's going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and the school isn't –

"He's at Hogwarts?" She asked, sitting up with a fury. She stood hastily and with a pop! she was gone.

/

He was staring at her as she walked into the classroom, taken aback at her beauty – her paleness – and the overwhelming relief that spread throughout his soul. She didn't stop for a moment, almost running towards him while he stood frozen. The collision sounded in the room, her arms wrapping around his torso as his did the same. He relished the scent of her hair, although a trifle old smelling – it was hers, and he lifted her up to hide himself in her.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to be a teacher?" She muttered, muffled into his clothes. "You seriously think that this is enough to get rid of me?"

"No." He whispered, "I thought you were a ghost come to haunt me." He could feel tears as they fell from her eyes, and he took in a shuddering breath. "Never again."

Squeezing her even tighter, he kissed the side of her head – never wanting to let her go. "We can do this." She whispered as he nodded, not trusting himself to speak as they stood there; both minds working out how to work around the conventions they faced.


	5. Chapter 5

**Forces at Bay**

 **Chocolate Frog:** **(Bronze) Igor Karkaroff -** **Prompts:** **Coward, Exchange, Burn, Champion**

 **Extra Prompt; a kiss**

The soft winged back chair seemed to engulf him, his head was perfectly placed on the pillowing surface. His brows were furrowed, eyes shut, his black hair shining in the low candle light of his room. His breaths were steady, but his heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to contain his thoughts.

 _Snap_

 _Creak_

 _Snap_

 _Creak_

 _Snap_

 _Creak_

He kept flipping the lid open and shut, repeating the motion until the hinges on the small box wore out – using reparo, then starting the cycle all over again. It was something he had never considered doing before, to be fair – he thought he would be long since buried and forgotten.

Yet here he was, eyeing the box trying to exchange courage for bravery.

 _Snap_

 _Creak_

 _Snap_

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, and he jumped, the box snapping shut, popping it into an inner pocket of his robe. "You missed dinner in the Great Hall."

"I was busy," he drawled, leaning back into his chair, extending a hand to her – feeling the relaxation of muscles at her touch, as she came round, he could tell she had been crying. "What happened?" He asked, his tone concerned.

"It's nothing, really," the curly haired girl replied, offering up a smile, giving his hand a firm squeeze. He pulled her closer, down onto his lap, scooping her legs so they hung over his knees – her head resting in the crook of his neck, her hands resting on her lap as he stroked her hair. There was no need for words, he just waited until she started to relax, the tension leaving her body – letting out a hefty sigh. "We were studying the ill effects of curses, and, I…had flashbacks to the war. In class. I was fully awake – but I could see it all so clearly. I wasn't even in the classroom anymore. I just started screaming." She shuddered, fiddling with his robe. "The day hasn't really been the same-" she didn't have to say _you know_ , because her partner, currently giving her comfort and warmth – had also experienced panic attacks since returning to the school.

"Shall I give you one of my sleeping potions for a dreamless sleep," he drawled, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, the traces of parchment and her scented liliac cream. "It is almost your bed -time." He teased, achieved the desirable result of having her chuckle, turning her nose into his shoulder.

"Can't I remain here with you?" She whispered, moved her hands along his chest, fiddling with the buttons, "I don't have any particular desire to share a space with Zabini tonight."

"Mhm," he growled, fighting the urge to remover her lips from his neck – where she was currently working her way up to his jaw. "We had a deal, Hermione." He was suddenly very aware of the bare skin of her legs, touched by the fabric of her skirt as it swept over her knees, flowing up towards the tucked in button down that currently was not shielded by her robe – her tie not around her neck, and several buttons were undone.

He cleared his throat, and stood up, causing her to squeak in surprise – followed by a huff as he set her on her feet. Walking to his cabinent, he pulled open the door while trying to snuff out the feelings the were currently trying to burn through his self control. They had agreed to wait, no physical "hanky panky", as Minerva says, until Hermione had graduated. Professor – student relations were frowned upon, so they communicated mostly through letters, and infrequent visits to the Room of Requirement. It was not nearly enough time spent together, but it was enough to fuel the fire within them – they were each other's champion, confidant and ultimately, they wanted more. Which is what made the few moments spent alone so hard, the aching to see her was met with the unyielding desire to make love to her.

Scanning the shelves, he plucked the right potion and turned round, seeing the look on her face. "Unhappy, are we?"

"Remind me why we agreed," she paused, hearing the footsteps of a student walking by, careful not to let the secret out. A select few students knew, and those didn't even attend the school. All of her friends were banned, at wand point, from compromising their relationship. The teachers new, and had agreed with their course of action – given the special circumstances. Those adults who had seen them in Hogsmeade didn't appear to have said anything, many assumed – according to Harry – that she was his nurse. Which of course was an absurd notion to Hermione, but Snape found it rather amusing. "-that we could not be together?"

His chuckle was filled with mirth, walking forward to place the vial in her hands – placing a kiss on her lips when she tried to speak, drawing away just as fast, walking her to the door. "Try to finish your assignment time Miss Granger," he drawled, giving her one last pat on the bum as she stepped out of the room. "I will not make exceptions, even for war heroes."

She glared at him as he retreated, especially at the way he seemed to grin like the Cheshire cat in the dark – watching her leave with satisfaction.

Reaching into his robe pocket, he held the box in his hand.

 _Creak_

The ring sat there, begging him to say the words. The bright shine on the 7 diamonds, sitting in a triangle shape above the marquise diamond center, sitting on the slim golden band. And yet, here it sat, and had sat, for almost six months.

Perhaps he was a coward after all.

/

He was running, sprinting, through the halls to the grounds– feeling the heavy chill of winter as she nipped at his exposed flesh – the bare skin of his torso, muscles tight as he clenched his fingers into fists, the sound of the fabric of his pyjama pants as they moved with his rapid motion. The alarm, sounding like a banshee screeching, had occurred around 3 am. Prefects had made sure the students were safe in their houses, but the Head Boy and Girl where no where to be seen.

Minerva startled as he rounded the corner, gaping at his dress – as if her own nightgown and cap wasn't as much of a shocker . Other teachers, such as Hagrid, were already there – the man was always up at weird hours, so there was no point in asking him how he had come to be there so quickly.

"What happened?" He panted, glaring at those who were eyeing him in surprise – perhaps it was his dress, or the fact he wasn't trying to tower over anyone that surprised them.

"Death Eater." Professor Sprout said with a nod, gesturing to a short young man, easily only 18. Severous recognized him easily, "or a wannabe."

"Rosier. Junior." He stated plainly, the boy snarled something, fighting against the bonds that held him – Hagrid just chuckled.

"If it weren't for 'Mione, he might have gotten past me." He huffed, "Nasty little blighter."

"Where is-?" He asked, no longer panting, putting his hands on his waist, looking for her almost frantically as Hagrid continued.

"On her rounds, was our Hermione," Hagrid continued, "When she noticed this shifty looking rat in the corridor. Impersonating a student," the big man growled, "attacking a war hero no less."

He didn't even try to control himself, he was inside the boy's mind seeing the fast moving images of his intentions - and what he had done to Hermione. Stepping back, he scanned the area, looking – straining.

He caught sight of the curly hair before anything else, moving towards her, eyeing the dark bruises on her neck. Hs expression darkened, guilt flooding his system as she met his eye – still brave enough to offer up a smile. He wanted to cup her face in his hands, to wipe away a tear as it formed, but he was no less proud of her for smiling past the water rising around her eyes. "Aurors are on their way."

He took touched her gently, checked for other injuries, his eyes never leaving hers all the while.

"It should have been you!" The boy snarled, lunging forward, his beady little eyes on the scar on his neck. "It should have been you who died, you filthy traitor! And that little Mudblood whore!"

It took all his strength not to snap the little cretin's neck.

Hagrid certainly seemed to be having the same thought, "Ruddy fool forgot who won the war!"

"In the mean time, let us shut off the alarm and settle the students back down." Minerva commanded, selecting specific teachers to do so. "Severus, you can take Miss Granger to see Poppy."

They walked until they were safely inside, and he sprung on her like a panther, engulfing her in his arms. "I'm sorry." He kissed her head, gripping her head, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Severus." She whispered, carefully placing her hands against his skin, embracing the warmth as he stood there, shaking, emotions running high through them both. "It's not your fault." She breathed, shutting her eyes.

"I should have been with you." He said firmly, moving his hand to her throat – hesitant to touch the marks. "This is my fault."

"Hardly," she replied, sniffling despite her desire not to cry. "It's not your fault-"

"It isn't yours," he hushed her, kissing her again – just holding her there.

"It isn't ours." She rephrased, hearing the stubborness in his voice. "Severus, it isn't your fault. You don't have to protect me or save me." She countered, stepping back from him to study his gaze. "Which you don't believe." He was mute, just breathing. She sighed, rubbing her neck lightly.

"I do not want to make the same mistake again." He whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders, shutting his eyes. "I can not lose you."

"The same-" She asked, her expression changing as she began to understand – reaching up, cupping his face much like what he had wanted to do earlier, to kiss him. "That wasn't your fault either, Severus." She kissed him again, welcoming his arms going around her, lifting her off her feet for a moment.

Placing her down and pulling away, he cleared his throat, conscious of the thinness of his clothing. "Come," he drawled, putting a hand on her lower back to direct her to the hospital wing. They walked in silence, once again, one trying to avoid an argument – the other wallowing in misplaced guilt. Climbing the stairs, she started watching his body as he moved. It hasn't escaped her notice, the hardening of the muscles – she was the one who touched him after all. He must have spent time rebuilding, making them stronger. He had always been lean, now he had definition – the kind he could have used as a younger man.

"Have you been working out?" She blurted, catching the grin of satisfaction as he fought it away.

"Perhaps." He replied, turning as she squeezed his bicep, watching her expression and feeling as her fingers touched him again – a fun little smile on her features.

"When have you had time?" She wondered aloud, her eyes wandering down to the solid V of muscles against his hips. He chuckled, putting his hand on her head, pulling her into his body space.

"Not all of my time is thinking about you, Miss Granger." He whispered into her curls, smiling as she giggled at the silliness of the statement.

"Clearly," she teased pulling away to run her nails along his abdomen. "Severus Snape, you have been holding out on me."

He snorted, looking as they transitioned to the next floor, heading toward where Poppy was waiting for them. "Surely you would prefer a fit man to be your husband, rather than the creature you tended to in the hospital."

Hermione stopped, gaping at him. "Husband?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Waking Nightmare**

"What…exactly ... are you doing?" Hermione asked, a startled expression resting on her features. He was on top of her, almost panting for breath, his dark brown eyes staring back into hers with an intimidating, lustful expression - holding her wrists firmly above her head. Her head was cloudy, still muddled by sleep, a pulsation within her body and the fading images of a tall, black haired man.

"You were," Zabini stated softly, his voice husky and dreamlike, into her ear as he leaned closer. "-moaning in your sleep."

Gaping at him, she could feel the warmth of his naked torso against her nightdress; _very_ aware of the fact her legs were open, his knee resting between them. _How did I end up like this?_ "Don't… be… absurd." Feeling him shift, her eyes widened at the realization that his knee wasn't all she could feel; and worse, it made her pulsate even more.

"You sounded like you were enjoying it," He purred, resting his lips against her neck, his voice vibrating on her skin – sending a shiver down her spine. "Did he feel like this, in your dream?" His lips were soft as they kissed her neck, teeth scraping at her skin while he lowered himself onto her – a small groan escaping her lips despite the warnings in her mind.

His knee moved upwards, causing a jolt of pleasure through her as he touched her exposed sex. She relaxed for a moment, her hips rising like they were possessed against him, lips parted as her breathes became more ragged. His lips travelled to her shoulders, collarbone and down to where her breasts lay – nipples erect through the cotton nightgown. Still she rocked against his knee as he pressed it against her, the sounds coming from her more stimulating than he could have predicted.

The young man moved his hands, shifting his grasp to free his hand, moving it down to her legs, pressing them to open wider. Moving his lips to the other side of her neck, he started again to nip at her skin; meanwhile his fingers took the place of his knee, his thumb rubbing against her clitoris while he slipped a finger or two inside her. The gasp she produced made him grin, and bite the skin underneath her ear while he increased the movement of his fingers.

The fog was suddenly lifted from her mind as her whole body seemed to tense, arching beneath him a soft cry coming from her lips; a name almost being let out.

A chuckle came from his lips as he rose to look at her once more, her eyes flashing open with recognition with what had just happened, what she could feel through his boxers and the guilt that was washing over her. "So, the famous Hermione Granger can make this kind of expression."

"Get off me Zabini." She barked, trying to break away.

"Give me a good reason to." He purred, causing she snarled a swear under her breath. "Don't you want to feel this good every morning?"

"GET. OFF."

"That's not a good reason, Granger." Zabini purred, pressing his thumb to her clitoris once more. "And you can't say it's because you aren't turned on, because," He lowered his lips to her ear once more, " _I can feel that it's true."_

Fighting against the pleasure in her body, she glared at him, making her self fight against his more. "Because I didn't consent to this." Hermione stated plainly, feeling the twitch in her abdomen as he continued.

The dark eyed young man seemed to pause, thinking, not raising his head from it's current position. "Perhaps, you need a little motivation." Hermione scoffed in return, fully awake and hating herself for being turned on in this situation. "Shall I tell the rest of the school…whose name you say when you are having your sex dreams?"

Her heart was in her throat, her eyes locked on his face as she watched him with a disbelieving expression, "I can't imagine anyone would respect you when they learn about it," Now fear took hold of her features, hatred growing as well. "Severus, oh Severus – harder-

"Stop it." She growled, but he didn't comply, "I. Said. Stop. It."

"Not until you say you want me" The voice was nothing more than a growl.

"That won't happen."

"Not even to protect your little secret?"

The whisper was like a dagger to her heart.

"I-

"Yes?" He purred into her ear, his thumb doing little circles on her clitoris as she struggled to find the words.

"I can't have sex with you." Those words weren't right. "I won't."

"But you want to."

"No." But even she could hear the weakness in that rebuttal.

"I could convince you."

Finally, her voice sounded firm. "I said no."

"Perhaps you should reconsider….

"Get off me, now."

He complied, but not before he kissed her. A look in his eye told her this wouldn't be the end of his attempt to seduce her.

Laying there for a moment, she tried to digest what, exactly, had just occurred. She felt…. dirty. And all she could think of was him.

Grabbing her robe, she threw open the door to her room. Sprinting forward, she fought back the tears, feelings of guilt and the trembling that seemed overwhelm her muscles.

 _This isn't the first time._

 _I should have stopped him._

 _I shouldn't have been turned on._

 _He touched me, his fingers were…_

 _For a moment, I wanted him so badly._

 _What am I thinking!_

 _I should have fought back,_

 _I should have said no,_

 _I shouldn't have been turned on by him, when I love someone else._

 _Then…why?_

 _Why did it feel so good?_

 _True, Severus and I haven't done very much._

 _Kissing, and a little touching._

 _He's never even seen me naked._

 _I've wanted to be with Severus for so long now,_

 _I've felt him, albeit briefly,_

 _He always stops me from touching him there._

 _Zabini is eag- what am I saying?_

 _I don't even like Zabini._

Her feet led her right to his door, the wood felt so familiar – as if the warmth of his touch was held within the grain as she reached out, hesitation heavy.

 _How can I tell him?_

Tears threatened as lips quivered, fingers curling back away. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. She felt so filthy, as if ever inch of her had been marked by his touch and the willingness of her body to betray her.

 _I'm disgusting._

Just like that, drops of tears started to fall to the floor – barely making a sound.

The door opened suddenly, and she felt her head jerk up; cheeks stained as tears ran faster when she saw him. He seemed so wild, strong and stunning with the firelight flickering in the background – his long black hair and dark eyes offset by the button down white shirt, currently undone and untucked from his trousers.

 _I'm sorry, for everything I have done._

/

Sounds were mingled, blurred, like images rushing by as you watched trees from inside a car. Sitting in the Great Hall, nothing could make her raise her eyes from her plate – the chatter drowned out by the feeling of numbness.

The whole thing made her feel sick.

She had told him everything, never once being able to equate the feelings cursing through her with a physical trauma.

At first she thought he would snap, break something or punch a wall like Ron had done.

But he didn't.

Hermione had never seen someone with such an expression, much less being the cause of so much pain.

Still he had taken her hands, kissed each one softly and whispered that he loved her.

They hadn't spoken in a week and a half.

Feeling her side being jabbed, Hermione looked up to make eye contact with Ginny. The girl seemed to be waiting for an answer, but Hermione couldn't have recalled the question if she tried. "Hermione?"

"Can you repeat the question?"

The red head blinked, eyeing the others around her who shrugged in reply. "What's going on with you?"

"How do you mean?" Ginny sighed, standing – dragging the girl up with her. "Ginny, where-

"Just come with me." Ginny stated flatly, pulling the girl along behind her. Hermione's eyes hit the floor as they walked, never once glancing forward. "Merlin." Ginny breathed, suddenly stopping.

"Wha-

Hermione felt everything dissolve around her at the sight of Blaise Zabini. His face was bloody and swollen, almost unrecognizable if not for the Head Boy crest upon the uniform. His lip was puffy, blood dripping out from the sides of his mouth. His nose looked broken, blood running from there as well. Dark purple bruising rested on his cheeks, making his face resemble that of a chipmunk. An ill chipmunk, everything considered. He did not glance at her, in fact, he avoided them all together. His eyes were swollen too, a few scratches above his eyebrows. In addition, he was walking with a limp, being escorted by a Professor to see Madam Pomfrey – no doubt.

"Who do you think had toe guts to beat up the old sex god of Slytherin?" Ginny mused, "An ex-lover? Mad boyfriend?" turning back face her friend; whose pale features and teary eyes made the red head startle. "Hermione, what's wrong? Hermione?"

The tears were flowing before she could even utter a word, her breaths getting more and more rapid; filled with so much pain, and so much love.

"Hermione, Hermione, calm down." Ginny whispered, getting the girl to her feet – out of the sightline of possible passerby's. Making it to the bathroom, Hermione sobbed.

It all just came rushing out as Hermione dropped to her knees, clutching her friend's hands for dear life. Ginny listened patiently, careful not to interrupt to interject her own personal commentary until Hermione was quite finished.

"Do you want to know what I think?" The red head asked softly, watching as Hermione raised her gaze to make eye contact – nodding. "I think the fault lies entirely with Blaise. He took advantage of you when you were half asleep, and he didn't ask for consent. Regardless of what you might be feeling about the act itself, he shouldn't have forced himself on you. That isn't cheating Hermione."

The curly haired girl shook her head, trying to blink away the tears. "But I feel so dirty, Ginny, I mean I orgasmed… against his hand, I let him touch me-."

"He was trying to seduce you before, you said so a few weeks ago – always trying to invite you to share a bed, or pressing himself up behind you." Ginny wanted to scream out that it was assault, and blackmail, but perhaps it was all to fresh within her friend's mind yet. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I should have fought back!" Hermione cried out, increasing her hold on Ginny's hands. "I should have done…. something. Anything." Sinking further into the floor, she tried to catch a breath. "What he must think of me."

"Severus?" A nod. "Well, I think he loves you, and thinks you were in danger."

"How can you tell?" Hermione whimpered, "He hasn't spoken to me in more than a week."

"Well, if Blaise's face is any indication – then I say he cares a great deal about you. What teacher would risk their job to date a student, let alone beat up another student to protect her honor?"

"But I don't want him to lose his job!" The girl cried out, losing her breath to the words, panic in her eyes and body. "And I thought… he was going… to propose… before Christmas." She struggled to get out, her breaths faltering – stuck between her ribs.

Ginny was silent for a moment, before wrapping her arms around her shaking friend. "Oh Hermione," Thoughts racing, the red head didn't know how to offer relief – instead she just let her cry until there were no more tears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Carry My Love**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank;**

 **Words to use Instead of Said; whispered, asked, smiled, confirmed, giggled**

 **Prompt used; (object) a wardrobe**

* * *

Snow covered the ground, a cold chill in the walls and a haunting silence in the air. The room adjacent was empty, a stark reminder of the start of the holiday season. He had never much missed the endless chatter, but lately it had become a necessary distraction. Christmas loomed like the shadow of a mountain over a small village, with none of the light and hope that it often brought.

Hermione had become unreachable, but always floating in his peripheral like a frightened apparition. He wished that she would come close enough that the smell of her shampoo would ensnare his senses, or run his fingers though the tangled mess of curls. Yet each time he reached for her, she seemed to vanish from his sight. To combat this, he had taken to bribing Ginny Weasley for updates on the girl. He understood, but this separation was more than painful, and he didn't know what more to do. He left notes in hard to reach places, he watched her from a far and always was on his own patrolling duty after the last incident. Even then, nothing worked.

Minerva had not been happy about the Head Boy being beaten to a pulp, yet she didn't question the boy when said he had been jumped when at Hogsmead and wished to withdraw from his position as Head Boy as it was "Drawing to much attention to him." And while Dennis Creevey had jumped at the chance to fill the position of Head Boy, Hermione had still not come back out of her shell.

He would have preferred it if Blaise was drawn and quartered, but England had outlawed that centuries ago, and he knew it wouldn't help resolve the issue between them.

She couldn't forgive herself for what had transpired, and he suspected she couldn't believe that he found her blameless. She needed something, or someone, so he had been working on a solution during this time.

Now all he had to do is get close enough to tell her.

Sighing into the chair, he flicked his hand and a soft tune started on the gramophone sitting on the small wardrobe in his room.

Slowly the music started, as if the singer was there beside him; softly calling out to her lover as he went away over seas. In his minds eye he could see her, stretching out her hands until her fingertips no longer touched his, a strong sea breeze making the fabric of her skirts waver and almost lift her into the air. The swell of the ocean spray rising against the high wall, gently landing on her skin but not making her cold as tears of bittersweet goodbyes welling in her eyes. Likewise, her young sailor reaching out as his ship moved farther and farther from land, the image of his sweetheart fading with each passing moment, while the smell of her perfume lingered on his collar.

Snapping his fingers, it stopped, wiping his eyes as he stood, the light fabric of his robe falling past his knees. The moon was high, shining down through the window, illuminating every scar as they lay on his bare torso, moving gently with each breath he took, running up to the faint lines the remained on his neck.

She would be out on her rounds about now, regardless of the holiday, her hair kissed by the same moonlight, her smile basking in it's glow.

 _If I reach out,_ he thought, extending his hand to the soft light, _will she know?_

Shutting his eyes, he willed his spirit to call to her – and she to him.

As he walked, he did not feel rushed or panicked, nor did he wonder as to her location.

* * *

Lace of her nightdress dragged softly on the stone floor, with it the chains dragging behind her, with most insidious noises. "Baron?" She asked, lifting her head as she turned, looking at the ghost as he dragged his chains behind her. "Why are you following me?" The ghost said nothing, but he gave her a sorrowful stare for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to send her a message, before disappearing into the moonlight as it trickled down. "Ghosts." She muttered, turning back to her path, pulling the robes tighter across her chest.

She had thought that spending Christmas away from her family was hard during the war, but she had expected to have them back by now, cured. Safe. But not all the death eaters had been caught, nor their families. Supporters of the Dark Lord still existed, and several had tried to attack Harry and Ron while they were on assignment. They wrote her letters, telling her all about it. When the boy had caught her off guard while on patrol, daydreaming about Severus, the first person she had wanted to talk to was Severus. When Blaise had violated her, the first person she wanted was Severus.

She felt like she had betrayed him, and her family. Forgotten were her parents in Australia. It was wrong, the right thing had been out of reach all her life.

Hermione felt a chill run through her as she stopped to watch the moon. One of her favorite past times while on the run. The moon, while ever changing, was the one constant part of her life before Severus. It always filled her with a sense of purpose and renewal, tonight it was more like a ghost.

Unthinking she reached out for it, shutting her eyes as the insecurities and guilt faded for a moment. The warmth of the moonlight made her fingers tingle, her lips open; parted as if to speak his name.

 _Severus, can you hear me?_ She wondered, keeping her eyes shut – as if her fingers could only reach for him in darkness. Gently, slowly, a warmth touched her fingers, slowly lowering on the back of her hand, feather like weight lowering onto her outstretched arm, bleeding in-between her fingers, and around her waist.

"Severus." She whispered, resisting the urge to lean back into his strength.

"Shh." He whispered in kind, and they stood there for a moment – basking in the soft light of the moon. Slowly he moved her, after a time, turning to pull her into a position she only knew from one other occasion.

His hand around her waist, his chin pressed lightly against her head as he hummed a soft tune; letting it buzz in brain, making her knees feel weak. It was so simple, dancing while others were dreaming, his smell, his warmth against the chill in these old castle walls, or the tender way her held her.

Yet the grief was weight dragging her wrists down, a thick cloud had embraced her soul.

"I -" She whispered, feeling the stiffening of his muscles at her words.

"Just," He drawled, "-a moment longer."

"I'm sorry." She babbled, her eyes filling with tears, "I've missed you so much, but I can't – I'm not…good enough…anymore." Their movement stopped, but she did not release him as the tears bubbled up. "How can you still want me, how can you be so forgiving after what I did – and you could have lost your job-

"Hermione," His voice was calm and soothing, drawing her frustration, anger and sorrow into himself. "There is nothing to forgive, on either side. I did not touch Blaise, and you did not cheat on me."

"There is something," Clearing her throat, she could feel herself tremble but she knew she had to say it. "A part of me wanted it, enjoyed it." Dipping her head down, biting her lower lip to try to keep from talking. "But when it all happened, it was your name on my lips – I was desperate for you. Another man was touching me and all I knew, all I wanted was for it to be you. But I didn't stop him, I froze -"

"Granger," He growled, lifting her chin slowly. "Where the reality may be that you feel guilt, the blame lies with Zabini, and him alone. Forgive yourself," He expression was sobering, but sorrow lay behind that powerful gaze. "If you need time, I can give you that." The strong drawl shifted, into the softest utterance, "I can give you all that you need." She could feel the pang within her heart, the weakness in her knees and she could hear the clanking of the Baron's chains as he watched from nearby as an omen. "However, before you make your final decision; will you do one thing with me?"

"Yes," The answer was immediate, her heart speaking for her.

"Spend Christmas Day with me," The offer was, in part, entirely selfish. Christmas was always a bleak holiday for him, and he desperately wanted to make new memories. "I shall show you wonders, you've never dreamed."

"Of course I will." She smiled, allowing herself to forget, for a moment, the chains she carried.

"Dance with me," His deep voice drawled into her ear as he held her, "My love."

* * *

It was the small of fresh pine needles amid the furnace that was his bedding that woke her mingled with the sounds of crinkling paper. It was strange, how the smallest change of atmosphere had changed her perspective immensely, more than she had expected. Nightmares haunted her no longer, and each moment she could be near him dispelled any signs of grief or guilt.

And today, best of all, was Christmas.

They had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning decorating a tree with all ornaments they had made themselves. Severus had severe struck her as a Christmas person, but beneath that somber expression was a man who enjoyed each individual moment. Picking out a tree, or transfiguring it, putting up Christmas lights and hanging the ornaments. He had hot chocolate and peppermint, and enough blankets to build a fort out of.

But the part that made her smile was how he wrapped presents, like he created potions. He was meticulous, but creative. She had teased him that he could have been a Hufflepuff with those wrapping skills, which made him smile. But the bed made of blankets though, was the best out of the evening. It was soft and comfortable, letting her fall asleep each night without meaning to, just enjoying the feeling of family that was omitted between them.

"You aren't supposed to shake them before opening them," She uttered with a yawn and a stretch, "Peaking is cheating, didn't you know that."

"I don't peaking," Severus replied, sitting himself on the edge of the makeshift bed, passing her a steaming cup of Christmas cheer when she was in an upright position. Leaning slightly forward, he pulled a small box from a branch, tossing it on the blankets beside her.

"I never saw you wrap this one." She stated, eyeing it curiously.

"Open it." His tone was stern, and she smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

Placing the cup down, Hermione, found herself rushing to unwrap the small item like a child. Flipping the lid of the velvet box with no hesitation, she blinked in surprise. It was a tiny potion, attached to a necklace. "Is it?"

"Amortentia." He confirmed, not glancing over.

"Why?" She asked, perfectly bewildered.

"To carry my love around with you." Was his articulate reply, and she felt the heat on her cheeks stem from the perfectly absurd notion that Severus Snape was a hopeless romantic.

She giggled, "You could have just gotten…" Something caught the light, making her eyes dart to it as it it hung down like a spider's web, a little ring hung from the tree with care. "A ring."

Silence

"You _are_ going to propose, aren't you?" She asked, wiggling her way into his arms.

"That depends, Miss Granger," He drawled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she gave him a quizzical look. "On if you say yes."


	8. Chapter 8

**A Whole New World**

 **Task: You're trying something new and your pairing should as well! This could be anything from a new food to a new sport but one of your pairing should be showing some nerves and discomfort but in the end, would try it. Whether they enjoyed it or not, is up to you.**

* * *

Clenching his jaw, he stared at the mass in front of him – so eagerly placed by the witch, who, wore the ring of promise on her finger, the necklace of reminder around her neck and one of his old sweaters that hung too long over her bare legs – shorts somewhere underneath. Christmas had quickly become a favorite in his memory, and not just because they had slept next to one another each day afterwards. It was the look from other students when they saw the ring on her finger, and subtle smiles from his colleagues – they approved.

New Years had come and gone, but they had barely noticed. Having filled their time reading books aloud to one another, or sitting and talking until the wee hours of the morning; they made up for their lost time. "What….is this?" He drawled, leaning back from the table; scrunching his nose at the plate – it was an assault to the senses. And so much food. _How can she eat it all?_

Unless she had picked up that habit from Weasley.

"It's biryani, momos, chole bhature, pani puri and, my personal favorite, samosas." Hermione replied, sitting down opposite him. "The best of East Indian cuisine. My parents and I used to go to this East Indian restaurant in London all the time, well before the war, I asked Harry to send me some. You know, for fun."

"You call this…cuisine?" Curling up his lip in despair at the onslaught of smells, not knowing if this was a trick or not. "Didn't you say your parents were dentists?"

"They are, were? I think they still are, just – taking a vacation." She mused, picking up a piece of naan bread that was steaming on a plate between them. "Come on, eat up! It was you who said you wanted to try something new."

"I prefer to eat food I can pronounce," He uttered, leaning back in his chair – careful not to glance up at the puppy dog eyes that he knew were watching them on this frosty January day.

"Severus," She growled, and he held up a hand.

"It is fruitless to argue," He drawled, averting his eyes from the mess on his plate. He preferred food that were more tasteful, and that required actual utensils. A stuffed quail, with roasted garlic asparagus and a white sauce. "I don't do _ethnic_ food _."_

Pushing her chair out, Hermione stood and came round to him – putting a hand on his shoulder. "Turn your chair out."

"Why?" Severus asked, looking up at the stubborn steel in her eyes.

"Just do it."

"Hmm." The growl rolled in his throat as he did so, a small smile passing on her lips as she straddled him. He blinked in surprise, but said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes as his hands wandered to her hips, lost beneath the bulk of the green sweater that brought out the brown of her eyes. Her hair was left down and wild, downy soft and tempting him to drown himself within her.

But it wasn't time for dessert just yet.

She was moving, grabbing naan and ripping it, piling it with something she knew to taste good. Picking up the plate she had so lovingly placed before him, she wore a cheeky smile as she brought it to rest between the small space between them. "Now, open." The instruction was simple, but all he could so was stare incredulously at her. "Oh come on, it's only chick peas and bread."

"You assu-'

As soon as he had opened his mouth, she had popped the naan, heaping with chole bhature, into his mouth. Squeezing her gently with his hands, he begrudgingly started to chew – it felt like paste, flavored paste but paste all the same. The only delicious part of the meal was the pleased smile she wore as she waited for him stop chewing – no doubt to force more down his throat.

"Don't make that face," She teased, "It's not that bad!"

 _Torture in it's prime,_ he thought grimly, attempting to swallow it – along with his price. _How am I going to repay you._

Refusing to open his mouth, she started laughing, the giggles rising out of the depths of her soul – light and airy. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss sweetly on his lips, and when he went to reply in kind – his lips opening slightly – she had placed something in her place; a soft, doughy substance. It made his gag reflex kick in, his lips tightening while his nose scrunched up and his eyes rolled closed as he shuddered.

It was like eating a raw snail covered in slime.

And he _liked_ well done escargot.

Her laughter, how ever much at his expense, cut the horror of the meal in half. At first, it was soft chuckles bubbling within her tummy, but it always changed – growing into spurts of laughter that she kept behind tight lips until she could no more keep it behind closed doors than a bird could fly. Then it poured out, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and a hand going to her stomach – as if that would curb it.

"Severus… it really isn't that bad!" Hermione was speaking between the stitches in her sides and the snorts coming out her nose – which only made her laugh more.

"You should have let me die in that hospital room," He moaned, pulling her hips closer and his fingers found the ticklish spot just under her ribcage, making her squeal – almost throwing the plate in surprise.

"Stop," She giggled, putting the plate down. "Se-ver-us!" Despite her wiggling, he did not let her go, merely moving his fingers gently along her back to bring her forward; until their noses were touching and the laughter they both enjoyed had halted. "Ah, heh, ha…ah." Her voice whispered, letting her fingers run over his shoulders, slowly moving to his jaw, taunting them both with a closeness they had promised not to breach. "I suppose…"

"Hmm," He growled, letting his eyes shut half way as he breathed in her scent.

"We could …" She made her thought stretch out, her lips just barely brushing over his own as his fingers curled, his nails moving against her flesh, making her shudder. "…skip dinner."

"I would suggest that we do," He growled, standing easily, his hands placed firmly on her bottom as her legs went around his waist, as she stole a kiss that made him pause. One that made it hard for him to keep it PG-13 when he finally made it to portion of his room that had a bed.

/

"Ms, Granger." He growled into her ear, pushing aside some of her curls with his hand – yet she didn't stir. "You're missing your NEWTs."

She practically flew out of bed. "What- wha-" She huffed, spinning around. "It's Saturday, thank god." Pressing her palms to her knees, she took a few deep breathes. "What a nightmare." Still sitting on the bed, his shirt somewhere in the room – where ever she had tossed it the night before – he just let the moonlight make shadows on her skin. "Severus, is something wrong?" She asked, looking at him from under a mass of curled and thick eyelashes that seemed darker than the other side of the moon.

Saying nothing, he stood and approached her – taking her hand and leading her out the door. His classroom was dark, a quiet slumber lay on the school. "Sever-"

"Shh." He drawled, stopping to make the sound into her ear before whispering. "Don't make a sound."

Hermione nodded, following him as he led her through back corners and empty hall ways.

Sooner than she expected, the crisp cold air hit her, making her shiver as she recognized the Quidditch pitch.

He had a broom already waiting, it looked brand new – but it was old, long and heavy. Standing over it like an old pro, she reluctantly followed. She Severus Snape she had known in her youth had never touched a broomstick.

But with a twitch of his hand followed by a strangled gasp in her throat, they were up, flying well into the clouds. "I hate flying!"

"You have not tried flying, you have tried racing." He instructed, holding her firmly around the middle, his warmth welcomed. While she was sure that Harry or Ron would have been appalled at this broom, it did not fail them as they climbed higher and higher. Her eyes were shut tight all the way, clinging to the strong arm holding her steady.

And then, like that, they stopped – she half expected them to plummet back down to earth.

"Look around you," Came the low growl, a soft squeeze from his fingers.

Timidly she did, starting with on eyes and then another. But it didn't take her long to gasp in wonder at the sight of it all. The stars seemed so alive, like street lights, with the school so far beneath them, it more resembled a doll house than a school.

"This is…beautiful." Hermione whispered, letting the tension go in her body as they glided softly along, the air strangely warm.

"This is our world," He whispered gently, moving his thumb along her ribcage. "There is no good nor evil up here, just…eternity, among the stars."

"There was always so much going on during school, I never really – stopped to think."

"Most likely you never stopped thinking," He spoke fondly, putting his chin on the top of her head.

"You never told me you flew?" She remarked, extending her arms out to the side like she had seen done in a movie. Though the character was not up in the air, but over the ocean.

He made a noise in his throat, leaning back away from her. "What are you doing!?" She asked, panicking.

"Trust me." The deep voice drawled, his hands moving to her waist. "Stand up."

"Are you kidding?" She barked, and he simply squeezed her waist with gently authority.

"I'm here." He whispered, "I will never let you down." The deep reverberation of his voice in the calmness of the air gave her courage.

Taking a shuddering breath, she did as he instructed – though it was upon trembling knees she managed to place her feet in a steady position – Severus holding her steady. "Oh, I don't like this."

"Breathe," He instructed, watching as the soft wind blew her curls, her arms slowly extending out – he had no doubt her eyes were closed. "Feel the magic around you."

"Severus?" She queried, and he smiled.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Why the blood hell did you let go of me!" She squealed, starting to wobble as she felt his hands leave her, smacking her bottom lightly as he did so – standing easily on the broom behind her, spreading his arms out, making sure to keep the weight balanced.

"I learned to fly at night," He told her, taking a deep breath. "A safer world than the one I knew."

"I don't feel safe here at all!" She squeaked, keeping her balance and refusing to open her eyes.

"Would you prefer hovering over freezing cold artic waters?" He mused, his deep voice drawing out each word, a blush coming over her.

"You know that my favorite movie it the Titanic?" She whispered, opening her eyes - daring to look behind her.

"Miss Weasley told me." He answered frankly, pleased as she grinned.

"Since when did you start talking to Ginny?"

He made a low growl, "Long enough, Miss Granger."

"I'll be Mrs. Snape soon enough." Was her answer, shifting on the broom without thinking to kiss him, causing the balance to falter, the broom to wobble.. They both felt the air beneath their feet quite alarmingly, and yet, she did not scream. To her alarm, she wasn't even afraid. . Severus was holding onto the brook with one hand, the other quite firmly around her waist. "Oops."

He pursed his lips, and uttering a sigh, muttering. "Oops, indeed."


	9. Chapter 9

**Stolen Moments**

* * *

As the students walked into the Advanced Potions class he was covering for Slughorn, they giggled. In all his years of teachings, he could honestly say this was new; not that they did not have cause to laugh. Against the ebony colour of his hair, his skin looked rather akin to a leathery tomato; with blotchy white spots over his nose.

Chamomile lotion.

"Something funny?" he drawled, looming over the familiar seventh year with a menacing scowl.

"No, Professor." Cho Chang replied, her accent crisp and riddled with repressed giggles.

"Professor?" Ginny Weasley raised her hand, which was not surprising.

"Miss Weasley," Snape growled, moving his chin marginally to indicate she could speak. "What happened to Professor Slughorn, he was supposed to be back by now."

"Perhaps your energy might be better spent preparing for your examination," he enunciated, narrowing his eyes at her, listening to the snickering around him. "Something amuses you, does it, Mr, Creevy. Please enlighten us."

"I was just wondering what happened to your eyebrows," Dennis said easily, realizing his mistake too late. "Professor."

Growling, he turned swiftly to the front of the classroom. "Mr. Creevy, might I suggest you leave such keen observations to your spelling." Some chuckles, but mostly fell silence once more.

Starting his lesson, the old rhythm came so easily, it was as if he had never stopped teaching potions. The same bumbling blockheads who had managed to get into the class with little to no talent. _Slughorn must be softer than we think,_ he thought, _brain_ _addled with time._

Hearing giggles when they should have been brewing, he turned sharply to see the bright eyes glancing at him before turning back to her potion making with Weasley. No doubt the red haired witch knew all about the _incident_.

It had happened about a week previous when he had agreed to travel with Hermione to Romania. In hindsight not the smartest of choices, but aside from the missing eyebrows and third degree burn on his face, he couldn't really complain.

Much.

"Try to pay attention _Ms. Weasley_ ," he drawled, striding over with his robe billing out behind him. "It is never to late to _fail_ a project, is it Ms. Granger?"

* * *

"Will you hold still." Hermione growled, avoiding the nasty glare he gave her as she added more lotion to the cloth; watching as he grimaced and groaned. "I am trying to help you."

"May I remind you, Ms Granger, that this whole episode began because you wanted to help." He snarled, touching his head, which was completely bald – and burnt. "Merlin preserve me."

"Oh it isn't that bad," she countered, dabbing his back gently. She had been so proud of him, suffering through teaching like nothing had happened. "Poppy said that the worst of it healed after you drank the potions, this." she tried to find the words. "Well, this is nothing more than a bad sunburn now. Peeling and itchy. I will soon have you put to right, I have to – since NEWT's are coming up soon." He raked in air, gripping the back of the chair firmly as she touched more of the liquid to his skin. "And I would like it known for the record, that this was in no way my fault. Charlie warned you not to get close to the mother when picking out the egg-"

"If the dragon had been properly spelled," he drawled fiercely, "-it would not have been a problem."

"You are just lucky that the only thing you lost was your hair." she chided, cracking a smile; knowing he couldn't see it. He said nothing more as she dabbed his skin. "At least you've kept your figure."

"What?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I mean," she started, blushing now as she took a step back to look at the bald red skinned man who was now turning to stare at her; no eyebrows and all. Even the wig was sitting upon its stand. "You don't look half bad without hair."

He rolled his eyes, reaching out his hand to her with an uncharacteristic grin. "To think," he drawled, "They haven't seen the best of us yet."


	10. White Lies, Literally

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, her feet nudging the soft tissue that protruded from the top of the brightly colored bag. She had spent the last month cutting out things from magazines, creating a scrapbook of ideas. She had even skipped her last date with Severus to go with Ginny to one of her 'friends' houses. Hermione didn't know when Ginny had made friends with the daughter of the most famous wizarding designer; but she was very glad she had.

The woman made the most beautiful lingerie.

It made avoiding Severus almost…fun. She could hardly wait to see his face on their wedding night. It was easy to picture the slow way his lips would curve into a smile as his eyes met hers, while her hands were more agreeably occupied with undoing her robe. Or the way his hand would cup her jaw as he kissed her – making everything else in the room go away.

The very notion made her toes tingle.

 _Knock, knock._

"Hermione." A deep, drawling voice echoed though the walls. "You said five minutes."

"Uh." Hastily looking around, Hermione eyed the walls of dress patterns, drawings and material samples from Madam Bronwyn; which sharply contrasted the samples Luna had been sending her from her travels. "Just a second."

Changing quickly, Hermione smoothed the wrinkles on the light green dress out, snatching the large sun hat from off the back of a chair before opening the door a crack; slipping through only to shut it just as fast as she came through it.

"What are you up too?" Severus asked, offering up his hand before they descended.

"Studying, that's all." she chirped, giving his hand a squeeze. "My room is a compete mess as a result of it."

"Strange," Came his reply, "Here I believed you to have already obtained two perfect scores."

At this, she snorted. "Liar. You made a promise, remember. Thou shalt not tell thy fiancé her scores too early, or face thy fiancé's mighty wrath."

"I tremble at the thought." Severus growled, making her laughter echo throughout the castle as they made their way to Hogsmeade.

/

"So, have you decided yet?" Ginny asked, flipping through pages of the scrap book. "On a dress style I mean, I figured my advice on skipping the wedding and eloping went unheard."

"That might work for you, but I," Hermione glanced up from her study notes, "-want the big, white wedding in an oversized church yard with hundreds of guests."

"You're joking." Ginny muttered, scrunching up her nose at the idea.

"Yes, sort of." Hermione admitted. "I told Severus I wanted a big wedding, with all our friends and family – when it is only going to be those who truly matter. I'm not in the spotlight anymore, I don't need to have the whole world validate our love."

"Just the whole hospital." Ginny teased, ducking out of the way of a flying pillow. "So, dresses. What style are you going with? I think the mermaid style would look brilliant on your figure."

"Except they only come in neon colours." Hermione winced, shaking her head. "No thank you, I would take Luna's princess butterfly gown over a flashy mermaid gown any day."

Ginny made no attempt to hide her enthusiasm. "So that leaves my idea, Madam's idea and Luna's. Thank Merlin. I was worried you were going to favor Fleur's idea."

"Miss Granger, are you-"

As his voice drawled, the girls clambered to hide the evidence of their preparations while failing to contain their giggles.

"She's sick!" Ginny called out. "Terrible cold, try again in an hour or so – should be better by then."

"Ginny Weasley, you can't just tell lies." Hermione chided softly, moving for the door.

"Oh yeah, says the girl who pretended she was out buying books when she was being fitting for a sexy corset." Ginny hissed, and the curly haired brainiac went silent.

"So sick, cough, Ginny's northing meh." Hermione held her nose as she talked, making a voice she knew he wouldn't believe.

There was a long pause, a faint sigh, then, "I shall see you in Potions, Miss Granger, and do not be late."


	11. Raining Men

"Faster!" Hermione squealed, running from the basket, blanket, and assorted cups as fast as her legs could carry her, her voice almost drowned out by the deep rumble of thunder. "Leave it!" she called, stopping as she felt his hand slip from hers. "We can get it later!"

Severus, who now resembled more of a drowned rat than a man, paused in the pouring rain to glance towards his fiancé. The idea of abandoning their picnic was obvious distasteful to him, but the sharp crack of lightening on the tree overtop their picnic made him reconsider. As he watched her, he could feel the smile creeping slowly to his face.

"Severus, I'm freezing," she chided, "And you're laughing."

"No," he drawled, stepping toward her; admiring the way her curls were stuck to her cheeks, forehead, neck – not to mention how the bright yellow t-shirt framed her figure in a tantalizing way. "I was smiling." He had to keep reminding himself that the wedding was only a few months away. "There is a difference, Miss Granger."

Her response was punching gently in the stomach. "You're enjoying this."

"There is not a moment that goes by that I do not enjoy." he replied, trapping her in his arms – and warmth. "Though I admit I am rather fond of you in the rain."

Instinctively she put her head against his chest, her arms going around his waist. "I love the rain as much as the next person," she replied softly, "But Sev, do we have to be stuck in a downpour? You remember what happened the last time I came into contact with water."

"If you had followed my instructions you would not have fallen off the broom in the first place, Miss Granger." He spoke slowly, making her giggle.

"I won't be Miss Granger much longer, will I." Hermione pulled back, breaking his grip on her.

Tilting his head gently, he wiped away a moment's worth of raindrops. "Mrs. Snape." he stated, thinking how it didn't suit her, the harshness of his name.

Hermione grinned pulling out of his reach suddenly. "You'll have to catch me first!"

Bolting for cover, which happened to be a clump of rocks some kilometers away, Hermione's girlish giggle was lost under the rapid succession of thunder and lightning. Severus ran his fingers through his wet hair before taking off after her.

It was a playful act, until the raindrops turned to hail; making both of them double their pace. Severus was quite fast, much to Hermione's chagrin; though he never surpassed her. Instead he took her hand, making sure she kept pace with him until they made it to cover – then wrapping his arms around her, providing some warmth.

"Whose idea was it to take a 'muggle' style date in the rainy season?" he asked, kissing her head gently.

"It's not my fault it rained!" she chirped, gesturing to the thunderstorm.

"Hm." he murmured, placing his chin on her head. "I want it on record that if you catch cold, it is not my fault."

"If either of catches a cold, I shall accept full responsibility." Hermione groaned into his wet shirt. "But if I get sick, you have to take care of me."

"In sickness and in health." Severus chuckled, giving her a squeeze. "Before marriage….during marriage, my goodness Miss Granger, you are high maintenan –ah, ah," he gasped, pulling away and clutching his stomach dramatically.

"Now who is high maintenance?" Hermione grinned, pushing her wet hair out of her face. "Hmm, Mr. Snape?"


	12. The Wedding

**AN:** This should have been written along time ago, so I am really sorry I didn't have any proper inspiration until now. However, listening to Vivaldi and trying to find a good match made me think of this happy little piece that ends this story nicely. Sorry for the wait!

* * *

 **Gringotts Prompts Bank** :

HP Pairings: Hermione/Severus Snape

Figures of Speech: head over heels

HP locations: Shell Cottage

HP Potions: Amortentia

/

"I didn't _fall_ in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way." - this is from a book, but for the life of me I can't recall it.

 **Brief Lesson:**

This time period is from roughly 1600 - 1750. The music of this period features more elaborate and dramatic art, and the rise of secular music. More modern instruments also were introduced, like the flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, trumpet, and French horn, and the entire string section (violin, viola, cello, double bass). Also, the pianoforte (an early version of the piano) was introduced later in the Baroque period and rose to prominence. This keyboard instrument is touch sensitive, unlike the harpsichord, so you can play both loudly and softy. One of the most important composers of this time was J. S. Bach. He is considered one of the greatest composers of all time.

There were a few kinds of music that were popular: opera (drama set to music), hymns, sonata (instrumental piece, started as a word to describe duets between two melody instruments, then evolved into the solo sonata), concerto (one solo instrument supported by the larger orchestra - basically, you show off your skill)

Listening:

Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel (note: music majors, particularly cellists, like to make fun of/hate this piece) L'Orfeo by Monteverdi (note: if you hear some metallic plucking/chords, that is probably the harpsichord) - this is an opera The Art of the Fugue by Bach Hallelujah from Messiah by George Frideric Handel (Sonata) K 448 by Scarlatti (note: Scarlatti wrote over 500 sonatas for the harpsichord, all in single-movement form. They range in difficulty and are common pieces for students to play on the piano!) Summer from The Four Seasons by Vivaldi Pretty much all of Vivaldi is easy to listen to (:

 **Task:**

Option 1: Listen to one of the pieces linked above and write a song that is inspired somehow by that song. Ideas: listen to the song as you write, write a story that reflects the tone of the piece, write a piece that occurs during one of those time periods.

AN: I focused on the crescendos and decrescendos of the slower sections of the piece to write a romantic piece!

* * *

She walked out of the room as if she were swaying on a gentle breeze, her eyes scanning the room for him without thinking, a smile forming on her lips as she recognized that music was playing somewhere ahead of her.

The way up to the aisle, as well as the aisle itself, was lined with a silky red cloth. The chairs glittering gold; each soul that sat upon them smiling as much as she was – not that she noticed.

Nor did she see the splendor of the cottage, the pain Molly had taken decorating; with the touches of red and gold hanging throughout the place. Tents of the same colour were set up further down the beach, ready to welcome the happy couple inside, sashes of gold holding the flaps open.

All she could see was him.

She'd graduated top of her class with her two best friend alive and well, along with being engaged to the best man she had ever known besides her father. All these months of waiting, wanting, so utterly head over heels for this man.

He was standing there, looking oddly like every girl's tall handsome stranger they picture as their groom, in a perfectly fitting tuxedo wearing a rather obnoxious crimson red bowtie.

She had insisted on a muggle styled wedding clothes, she had only dreamed of it since she was a little girl – besides being a witch of course – but she couldn't have guessed it could be so… _perfect_.

He must have thought so as well because his eyes were locked with her own, a smile playing delicately on his lips as the music grew louder.

She had chosen a Dolce satin fit – and – flare down with organza on the skirt and train, with a fitted corset bodice, and sweetheart neckline; paired with a matching crimson sash and a golden bouquet made from wand of the fallen, wrapped gently in forget-me-nots.

Soft violin music started to play as she started to come down the silky pathway, feeling as though she were floating as she walked down the aisle alone.

Harry and Ron were standing on her side, dressed in their best clothes, smiles on their faces. To everyone's surprise, Minerva stood beside Severus Snape, in her most formal set of robes; no one had really expected Severus to have a best man, or woman, let alone it to be the famous McGonagall.

Stepping up to the altar, the low hum of the violin seemed to hold within a steady octave, not wavering as she passed her bouquet to Harry before reaching to take Severus' hands.

Kingsley began the ceremony but she didn't hear the words over her own heart beat and the rise and fall of her own emotions; the very emotions reflected in the dark orbs of the man standing next to her.

They exchanged rings, hand-made to the other's liking, getting ready for the truly nerve-wracking part.

The vows.

"Hermione Granger," Severus drawled, taking a breath, "I will never forget the moment you came into my life as my student, thought admittedly I never believe this is where we would end up, so it is only fitting that I shall spend the rest of my life remembering lucky I am that we met each other again under rather…trepidations circumstances. No tempest the future embraces can shake the foundation we have created," he continued, tears escaping, his composure slipping. "because our love is stronger than _Amortentia._ "

Sniffling, thinking of the necklace– with the tiny love potion as the center piece, as a reminder of his love - he had given her, she nodded at Kingsley when he gestured for her to start. "Severus, I don't know how you expect me to follow that," she sniffled, blinking away the tears, watching as his fell. "-except that, I never expected to fall in love. When I did, it was not in a romantic place filled with music and glamor, it was when you first held my hand in the hospital. It was when you would pretend to be asleep and try to hide your smiles. Severus," she took a shaky breath, "I didn't _fall_ in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I'll continue to walk with you, run with you, and love you for the rest of my life."

Kingsley, wiping away the tears, shook his head. "You are pronounced husband and wife, kiss your bride, Severus."

Hermione squealed as his arms were suddenly around her; dipping her down into a long, lasting kiss – getting some cheers from the peanut gallery behind them.

Around them magic swirled, pulsating at the same tempo as the music.

Standing upright, breaking from the kiss, Hermione opened her eyes and saw the sheer shock in her husband's eyes. Every inch of red that had once decorated the space was now a deep shade of emerald green, including his tie and her sash, making the slight silver glitter in the gold paint shine through.

Harry winked at his former professor, making the man blush for a moment, before the couple strode back down the aisle, hand in hand.


End file.
